


Fluffy Bunnies

by HarlequinWantsToWrite



Category: The Rook (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarlequinWantsToWrite/pseuds/HarlequinWantsToWrite
Summary: A collection of Drabbles and Shorts inspired by the Starz original series The Rook. Mostly humorous in nature and featuring the Gestalt x Myfanwy pairing. Maybe some angst. These are just things that pop into my head. If you've interacted with me on Discord, you know I'm a bit of a weirdo. Spoilers for all of Season 1.Sign the petition for a second season here! https://www.change.org/p/therookstarz-season-2-for-the-rook





	1. Glasses

Glasses

Teddy did not need glasses.

Gestalt did not care that by the end of the day, Teddy's eyes blurred and watered. The throbbing ache in his temple was a minor inconvenience when they had three other bodies to shift focus to. The scowl, furrowed brow and pulsing vein that occasionally popped up when Teddy's vision was really strained just added to his intimidating aura. It worked with the aesthetic. What did not work with Teddy's aesthic? Glasses. Ugh.

I mean, really. If Gestalt were going to put any of their bodies in glasses, it would be Robert. Obviously.

There were ways to cheat this shortcoming, of course. Gestalt never sent Teddy to the computers. If Teddy needed to read something in the field, they pulled out his phone and sent photographs to one of their other bodies to read. If they wanted to, er, interact with Myfawny using Teddy, they just brought along one of their other bodies to properly look at her.

But then. Teddy crashed a fucking car.

Alright, yes. All of Gestalt was into that kiss. Alex knocked over a cup of coffee. Robert got a bit wobbly on the stairs. A bit. But Teddy. Crashed. A. Fucking. Car.

In the library, before Gestalt realized she was still, fucking still, thinking about Bristol, that stupid bird cunt... Gestalt really wanted to say, "Myfanwy, if you're not ready to make this official... I'm willing to make the ultimate fashion sacrifice. I'll get glasses. I'd do anything for you, my love." Either way, Gestalt had to put something on the report to the vehicle depot.

________

Teddy Gestalt stood outside Ingrid's door, hesitating. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The pretense was utterly ridiculous. Both the door and the walls were glass. Ingrid could see him. She was looking right at him with an expression that said, Gestalt, you big idiot, stop wasting my time and tell me what you want already. Teddy opened to door and stepped inside.

"Ingrid, uhm-"

Elsewhere, Gestalt's 3 other bodies also hesitated and glanced upward. They did not want to do this. Oh, this was painful. Teddy tapped the paper with their orders in his hand.

"Yes..." Ingrid prodded, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, uhm, I need you to make me an appointment with the, uhm, optomitrist. Just for this body! Contacts, if possible."

"Of course, I'll let you know when we're able to get one set up," Ingrid said, her fingers already flying over the computer keyboard. Gestalt breathed a collective sigh of relief. That really wasn't so difficult. As Teddy turned to leave, though, they could have sworn he heard Ingrid mutter under her breath, "and of course it's contacts for Teddy. They don't sell specs in bulk at Men's Warehouse, now do they?"

NOTES: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hello! I hope you enjoyed. This was inspired during a recent work roadtrip. I had a migraine, and I got to thinking about how Teddy crashed a car when Robert and Alex seemed to only mildly fumble during the ElizaxMyfanwy kiss. Then I thought.... wait, Teddy always has another body with him until after they have to report the car accident.. waaaaait... And thus, this drabble was born.


	2. Help with Maths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glengrove, BBC (before bird cunt)  
Gestalt asks for help with Maths homework. Myfanwy is confused. Fluff with a teeny tiny serving of "am I... bi?" angst  
It's Fluffy Bunnies, Ya'll!

Myfanwy Thomas sat alone at a blue picnic bench, beneath a maple tree. Several textbooks were stacked next to her on the picnic table, and her binder (perfectly organized by subject, due date and level of completion, with color-coded divider tabs and custom labels, thankyouverymuch) was open to this week's politics review. She was certain there would be a quiz, but she couldn't help but be distracted. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the maple tree just so, and the gentle breeze plucked the loose strands of hair at Myfanwy's neck, making her turn her head just enough to catch sight of Eliza and Robert Gestalt as the walked casually towards her. Glengrove didn't have a uniform, per se, but the two of them looked like they were playing proper university students today: Eliza in knee high socks, plaid pin-tucked skirt and white button-down, Robert in trousers, white button-down and a plaid cardigan. They made eye contact with Myfanwy. Eliza smiled and gave her a little wave. Myfanwy's stomach did a little flip as the twins turned and made their way to her bench.

Oh, dear. Well, there went studying. All four Gestalt siblings were trouble, but these two were the worst.

The Gestalt siblings had a strange magic Myfanwy couldn't quite explain. She didn't quite grasp the extent of their abilities, in truth she barely understood her own, but they seemed to possess an almost effortless, instantaneous telepathic link that made them really useful partners when you wanted to break curfew or sneak into the kitchens for a midnight snack. 

They were also very striking in appearance, and Myfanwy couldn't help but find her eyes drawn to them. That white blonde hair on the 4 of them. Really, that alone should have ruled them out as future field agents, but she supposed there was always boxed dye and wigs. Spies on telly always wore wigs. 

Truth be told, even though their power wasn't flashy like hers, it was dead useful; and they did seem to have full control of it, unlike her. They *could* actually use it. Unlike useless Myfanwy Thomas. What's the point in having a really cool power if you only ever manage to botch it up? But Myfanwy had only been at Glengrove for a little less than a year; "These things take time!" the faculty reminded her.

"Myfanwy! You don't mind if we join, do you?" Eliza said, more of a statement than a question, as she and Robert were already settling themselves at the table with Myfanwy. Robert was pulling their notes and pencils out of his backpack while Eliza cracked open two soda's, placing a straw in hers. Myfanwy stared at the straw for a moment, that bloody damned straw, then glanced back up at Eliza. Eliza smiled coyly (was Robert... was Robert smirking?), and tilted the bottle towards Myfanwy.

"Did you want a sip?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

Myfanwy had made the mistake of asking about the straw once.

"Why do you use a straw when you drink your soda, Eliza? It's in a bottle, you don't need one."

Eliza had been practicing spy craft for much longer than Myfanwy, and by gods, the look in her eyes when she said, practically purred, really, 

"I could think of much better ways to muss my lipstick, is all." 

Myfanwy's stomach did cartwheels just thinking about those sparking, mischievous eyes. Eliza had no way of knowing, of course. No possible way. She couldn't know, could she? The telepathy was just... between the siblings, right? Fuuuuuuuuck.

"Hey, Myf," Robert said, "Can you help me with maths homework?"

"Why do you need my help?" Myfanwy asked, genuinely confused. "Alex is great at math. I had to ask for his help loads of times last semester. Just ask him for help."

Robert and Eliza laughed, pure mirth in both of their eyes. They looked at her with what Myfanwy could have sworn was the same fondness. 

"For someone so smart," Robert said, "You can be exceptionally slow on the uptake. Besides... Alex was good at Trig. This is Calculus and it is bullshit."

"Alright, let me look at it." Myfanwy turned the problems Robert had been working on towards herself. She had always been good with numbers; she had always considered a possible "fall back" career in accounting. She really only asked for Alex's help so much because she was lonely. The Gestalt siblings had become good friends, when she ignored the strange, lingering looks they gave her. Speaking of which... 

"I could make faster work of it if you two weren't staring."

"Oh, sorry," they said in unison. They did that sometimes. It was odd, but Myfanwy was getting used to it. It was just the way they were. Eliza cracked open a book and sipped her drink. Robert turned around on the bench, crossing his legs at the knee. Myfanwy couldn't tell if either one was actually doing anything, or just play-acting for her benefit. Either way, it was less disconcerting. She knew they were still completely aware of her; it was part of their training as spies. She tried to turn her attention back to the homework Robert had asked her to help with, but with them so close, now she was the one wanting to stare. They were both so beautiful. Robert was all long lines and elegance; a little emo, perhaps, but other than that, perfectly suitable boyfriend material by English standards... Eliza was both soft and strong, and... so confusing. That last bit was really entirely Myfanwy's mother's fault.

Really. It was. Myfanwy realized that she really, really should be thinking about this calculus work, but, well, she could just say she was confused by it, too, and she was. Confused. By her feelings for Eliza. And Robert. Really, the both of them together. But mostly Eliza, because Robert was a boy, and that made sense, but Eliza did not make sense, and that was her mother's fault. This had been bothering Myfanwy since the lipstick comment at Halloween, and every time since then that she had seen Eliza drinking with a bloody straw, with those lips, and how she might possibly muss said lipstick, and damn it. It was confusing. Because. Reasons. 

Because of where Eliza had chosen to sit, and how the light was filtering through the tree, it dappled her hair just so as to bring out flecks of silver in her hair, like fairy lights. She looked like Titania, the fairy queen, holding court while she read. And Myfanwy was, in that moment, so, so reminded of another girl from her childhood. 

Hannah. 

They were 7 years old, and played together in the forest like woodland sprites, making offerings of acorns to the Fae. The light danced in her hair, too, like gold in copper. Myfanwy loved her so, but she didn't understand at the time that if Hannah had been a boy, the way she loved her, her mother would have laughed and said, 

"Oh, look, they're boyfriend and girlfriend! How sweet!" 

When Valentine's day came around that year and Myfanwy's mother was letting her pick out her treat, she asked for Hannah's name to be printed on it. 

"oh, don't be silly," her mother said, "you can't have another girl's name on your valentine!" 

She saw Hannah less and less after that. Her mother encouraging her to see other friends. She was heartbroken and didn't understand why.

A few years later, it was a different girl's name spoken on whispered breathe. They shared endless laughter and art passed back and forth during class: Melissa. "Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Mother. 

When she mentioned a boy, Brian, gave her a flower after school (she didn't even particularly like him): "Oh, how exciting! Let's put on a lovely sweater and do a walk by his house! Oh, my Myffy's got a crush!" 

Angela.... "Another friend? I don't think she's good for you, Myfanwy. Her parents aren't the good sort, never around. I don't like the looks of her brother, I don't want you going to her house." 

Jay.... "Oh, what a stand-up chap! Cheers to you two! How delightful!"

Myfanwy learned. Myfanwy Understood. It didn't have to be said, really. Not in a deliberate way. Boys: yes. Girls: no. Unacceptable. Eventually, she just learned to ignore the bubbling feelings she got around girls. It's just nerves, jealous, gas! Eliza was the first in a good long while that Myfanwy couldn't deny, but with these powers... there was just so much more about her that was unacceptable now. 

Myfanwy must have made some sort of distressed noise, because both twins were looking at her again, concern written all over their faces.

"Are you alright?" Eliza asked.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. It's just... this doesn't make any sense to me, either. Sorry."

"It's fine," Robert said. "Maybe I'll ask Alex, after all." He grinned ruefully. He reached out and plucked his notebook out of Myfanwy's grasp, placing it back in his bag. He set the bag to the side and looked back at her. 

The wind had really picked up; Myfanwy's hair was blowing everywhere. Robert reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. Myfanwy blushed. She could have almost sworn she saw the same look pass behind both Robert and Eliza's eyes simultaneously. It was almost like they were both flirting with her, sending her those "just say the word" signals. She really was being ridiculous. Myfanwy knew all about girl code, and she was pretty sure sibling code superseded that. They *might* both have a crush on her, and she *might* have a crush on both of them, but she couldn't have *both* of them, and if picking one hurt the other, well... she would end up with neither. So all this bisexual panic was really for nothing. 

Better to focus on her schoolwork and getting control of her powers, really. 

"Well," she said, hoping her voice sounded steady as she packed up her things and got up to leave," if you can't figure it out, maybe the lot of us can plan a mission to steal some chocolate chip cookies to eat, and we can all work on it together? I think I've lost a full stone prepping for all these pop quizzes lately."

Eliza let out a laugh like a dozen chiming bells, "Don't make an offer like that if you don't plan on following through with it, Myfanwy Thomas."

"I'm not a tease, Gestalt," Myfanwy called over her shoulder as she walked back toward Glengrove building.

"Sure you aren't," they called back in unison. She could almost hear the smile in their voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I hope you enjoyed. This was, in part, inspired by the flash of Eliza with the devil horns sipping from a bottle with a straw and looking fiiiiiiine.


	3. Monica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to have sex with someone else to realize whose bed you're supposed to be in.
> 
> Monica POV, Takes place After *that scene* episode 6
> 
> Don't kill me, please!

Sometimes, you have to fuck someone else to figure out whose bed you really want to be in. Unfortunately, Marcus was goddamned dead; and Marcus was a goddamned traitor. She didn't know which one was worse, actually. Of all The Gestalt that had to come to her hotel room to debrief her, it had to be Alex, the literal cupcake: softer and squishier around the middle than the rest. But a warm body was a warm body, and even if they weren't going through the exact same thing as Monica, it was close enough. They'd lost someone they loved, too. On the same night, in the same incident, no less. 

Hell, Monica thought, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips, the people we love fucked each other (in a way), we might as well, too.

Alex had rolled over on top of her and they were moving together, but neither were looking at each other. They both knew what this was. Something else to try and stop the thoughts from swirling and driving them mad. It wasn't working very well, at least not for Monica. She thought of Marcus and Bronwyn, wondered if they were lovers, if his con had gone that far... if there had been a single moment of sincerity in their time together, or if he had played her for a fool all along. Her stomach rolled and gave a lurch. Suddenly, emptying the contents of the mini bar on an empty stomach and hopping in the sack with a vigorous lover did not seem like such a good idea. Monica put both hands on Alex's shoulders and pressed firmly.

"Wait, stop, stop! I'm gonna hurl."

Alex rolled off her and she rocketed off the bed and into the on-suite bathroom.

It was a hell of a transition. One minute, fucking. The next, naked, kneeling on the floor and vomiting what feels like your entire soul into the toilet. Alex had followed and was holding Monica's hair back. He pressed a cool wash rag to the back of her neck.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. One or twenty too many mini bottles. Hard to tell which one put me over. I don't usually do this." Her head had started to throb slightly, but it wasn't anything a couple aspirin wouldn't cure. Fucking Marcus. Fucking Bronwyn. Monica heaved until there was nothing left. She rested her cheek on the cool porcelain. She could sense Gestalt leaving the bathroom. Good. She didn't need that to deal with right now.

It wasn't long before Monica felt the gentle vibration of Gestalt's footfalls as Alex made his way back into the bathroom. Alex set a glass of water down beside her and brushed a bit of sweaty hair off of her forehead.

"You're still here?" Monica asked, blunt as ever. 

Gestalt ignored her tone.

"Drink this, it'll help."

Monica sat back on her heels, grabbed the glass and downed it in one go.

"I was going to say slowly, so as not to upset you stomach," Gestalt said with a slightly superior tone, "but you do whatever you think is best."

Monica glanced back over her shoulder towards Alex and took in his form for a moment. She scrunched up her face.

"Are you still naked?"

"Yeah, so are you," Alex said, nonchalant, though his cheeks got a bit pink, "I got distracted at work and didn't think on it. Give me a minute, I'll pull on me pants." He disappeared quickly into the other room. Monica watched him walk away, not even pretending she didn't enjoy the view. Did either of them even cum? She didn't think they had. Damn. Worst. One. Night. Stand. Ever.

Alex came back into the bathroom, track suit pants back on. He tossed Monica his oversized t-shirt, and she caught it easily.

"What the hell is this?" She asked.

"I just thought... you wanted me to cover up, you might be wanting to, as well."

"No," Monica gestured at her naked form, "I sleep naked, and this is my hotel room. Unless you have a problem with breasts."

Gestalt Scoffed.

"No. I've got a rather nice pair, myself, if you'll remember."

Monica rolled her eyes. How could she forget. The Gestalt quadruplet hive mind came complete with one perfect blonde bombshell. Check mate, Checquy.

"Yeah, and I've seen your type," Monica added, "Not exactly a breast man/woman/whatever you are."

"hey now-" Alex growled, a real warning in his tone that Monica hadn't heard from this body before. It was more suited to Teddy or Eliza, "-you watch it with that or we won't be friends anymore."

"Oh, are we friends now?" Monica said, maybe a bit too snidely.

"What else would you call us? What else would you call-" Alex gestured toward the other room, "that?" He finished a bit lamely.

"Fair enough."

Monica got up on wobbly legs and made her way back to the bed; she climbed in and pulled the blankets up around her. She hated feeling vulnerable. Monica Reid was a bad bitch, not some damsel in distress that needed some man, or non-binary hivemind, whatever you wanted to call it, to take care of her. Drunk, heartbroken, what-the-fuck-ever. She was in charge here.

"Are you sober enough to drive home, or do you want to stay?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay. I've got some thinking to do, me," Alex shifted on his feet, "and if I stay here, I can always say I was still debriefing you."

"Well," Monica waggled her eyebrows, "you kinda did."

Alex snorted.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I? Debriefed myself, too, a bit."

"Get over here, you nerd."

Gestalt laughed, and Alex made his way over to the bed. Before climbing in, he paused.

"We, uh, just to be clear, the distraction at work was a... very distracting... distraction. We won't be... continuing... Not to say you aren't sexy as fuck, because you are, but-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, no means no. I still have vomit on my chin, for fucks sake, Alex. Get in here and be the big spoon. That's what friends are for."

Alex Gestalt smiled and climbed back into bed with Monica, and she let her fuzzy mind drift to painful memories she could no longer trust. She thought of her friend Gestalt's current predicament, and she realized... if there was no lover left behind, maybe losing the memory of love wouldn't be so bad. Maybe before scheduling her flight home, she would see if Ingrid would do one more favor for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put your pitchforks away! I promise the next chapter will be delicious, marshmallowy Mystalt Goodness!!! I promise!


	4. Roadtrip with Robert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Season 1. Myfanwy Needs some retraining, and you can't catch dragons on public transportation. But car rides to get to said dragons are long, especially with your (is it your if you can't remember them?) ex

Myfanwy didn't remember the last time she had been out in the field. From what she had been told, it had little to do with her amnesia. Old Myfanwy Thomas just wasn't cut out for field work, they said. Too timid. Too skittish. As like to run away from the brush of a butterfly's wings as she was to over-order Chinese food for a meeting. Or so they said. That Myfanwy was a stranger to her.

New Myfanwy had a habit of running toward danger with wild abandon, much to her fellow Rook's chagrin. She was absolute rubbish with balancing the books now, but damned if her powers hadn't become exponentially more useful. Medical maintained that there was still the off chance she would regain at least part of her memory, so Conrad wasn't willing to get rid of her just yet. Instead, Myfanwy was undergoing "supplemental" field training. She was, more often than not, accompanied by one of The Gestalt (they seemed to have the most patience with her), or Conrad, himself. Ingrid was more than happy to train her own "boss," and do the job in the meantime (the substantial raise had made the proposition more palatable. Thank you, Conrad). 

It was a small circle that was allowed to know of Myfanwy's condition. They didn't want it to be widely known that such a high level official in the Checquy had suffered such a devastating attack, or that anyone in their agency could be vulnerable to such a thing in the first place. Also, the fewer people who knew about Nazim's ability's, the better asset he would make in the future. 

Earlier in the week, the Checquy had received reports of a dragon sighting in Wales, and while they had never had an actual confirmed case, with all the odd goings on lately (there had never been a confirmed psychic until Old Myfanwy encountered one, either), it was better safe than sorry. So, Myfanwy and Robert Gestalt were currently making their way from London to some middle-of-nowhere town in Wales. Lovely, lovely day.

"Explain to me, again, why we had to take a car and not the train?" Myfanwy asked, glancing at Robert as he drove. He had on one of his infamous silky, patterned shirts (was that supposed to be lavender?), with a kind of taupe suede jacket layered over top, black skinny jeans and... were those sunglasses Gucci? Was Gestalt's entire clothing budget sunk into this one body?

"Well," Robert knocked the sunglasses down his nose as he glanced at her with those blue, blue eyes, "on the off chance that there is a dragon when we get there, do you really think we'll be able to run it down on foot?"

"No, I suppose not." Myfanwy crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her (perfectly serviceable) leather jacket closer to her as she glanced out the window at the countryside. It was so different from the city.

"Are you cold? I can turn the heat up."

"No, I'm fine." They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Well, it might have been a little awkward. Myfanwy could almost feel it in the air: Robert was looking at the road, but it was like Gestalt's other three bodies were in the back seat giving her puppy eyes. They always had this...thing... hanging in the air between them. Old Myfanwy. Gestalt had been in love with her. Was. Was in love with her. 

It was always there, in the back of her mind, too. Gnawing at the pit of her stomach. But it was like the shadow of a dream that you bring with you when you wake up. Not quite real. The warmth and affection she felt for them was real, but the history, the memories, they were all missing. Was that fair, or was it cruel? It felt, at once, like hurting someone you loved and like stealing pieces of something that was never yours to begin with. 

Gestalt was living in the past (and hoping for a future where her memories came back), and all Myfanwy had to offer was the present. 

Robert cleared his throat, like the silence between them was just a little too much.

"We're going to have to stop off for petrol soon, so, you know, if you need to get out and stretch your legs, get any snacks..."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Just a few minutes later, they pulled up to a service station. Myfanwy hopped out of the vehicle and lifted her arms up over her head for a nice stretch. Her spine gave a pleasant little pop. Gestalt was already fueling up the car, so Myfanwy made her way inside to check out the snacks on offer. One of the downsides of being a new and improved version of herself: she had absolutely no clue what she liked to eat or drink. She was tired, though, so something with caffeine to help focus seemed like a good idea. Myfanwy grabbed a bottled tea and a bag of crisps, paid, and returned to the car. She passed Robert on her way out.

"Hey, do you mind if I drive for a bit?" She asked.

Robert looked at her for a moment as if he might say no. Ah. This was one of those moments, Myfanwy thought. Is it cruelty, knowing that I can tilt my head just so, use the right tone of voice, and Gestalt will give me whatever I want? Even if they aren't supposed to? Even if it goes against their better judgment? Against their orders?

"It's just- I felt a little ill, riding in the passenger side, and I think driving for a bit might help me feel better."

Robert expression opened, his eyes clearing of all doubt, like the sky on a summer day. Ah, gotcha, Myfanwy though. Ah, I am just rotten. She smiled.

"Of course," Robert said, "just let me know if you want, or need, to switch back. I'll give you the keys when I come back out."

Myfanwy set her snack in the car, but decided to do a bit more stretching before they got back on the road. She went through a few basic motions, stretching her calves and quads, biceps and triceps, finally folding over in a full forward bend. There was a slight crunch of gravel behind her, and Myfanwy raised up and whirled around to find Robert standing behind her with his own snacks in hand. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he held the keys out to her.

"Here you go," Gestalt said, an oddly formal tone in Robert's voice.

"Are you alright?" Myfanwy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?" Robert asked, obviously perplexed.

"It's just that, your face is all red is all. It wasn't like that before. Did something happen in there?"

"Oh, uh-No," Robert said, flustered, "It's just, uh, my complexion. I'm Polish, you know. Very pale. The long car ride, too much sunlight, I just need to reapply sunscreen is all."

"Huh," Myfanwy said. What she thought was... odd how the red is already going away now that you haven't just been caught looking at my bum.

They got back in the car and started back toward Wales. Robert reclined the passenger seat back slightly, like he might use the opportunity to take a nap. The silence was slightly more companionable, but that may have just been in Myfanwy's head. She liked being behind the wheel. After a few minutes, Myfanwy grabbed the tea she'd purchased, uncapped it, and took a sip. 

"Ugh," Myfanwy's entire face screwed up in disgust, "Oh, that is awful."

Robert tipped his sunglasses down again and glanced back at her.

"What, the tea? That good, is it?"

"It tastes like piss sweetened with god knows what."

"Oh, come on now, it can't be that bad, give it here," he motioned for her to hand it over. She did. Robert grabbed the bottle from her and took a drink. He made a face, though not as extreme as the one Myfanwy made.

"Oh, that is... not good. Here," Robert reached into his own bag and pulled out a glass bottle of something that promised to be lemon-flavored and fizzy. He popped the cap off and passed it to Myfanwy, "drink this. You'll like it better."

Myfanwy accepted the drink, tentatively.

"This isn't something old me liked, is it?"

"No, this is something this me drinks on assignment sometimes. It has a French sounding name, so Americans think it's fancy and pretentious. It's cheap as dirt here, and I actually like the way it tastes, so..." Robert waved his hand as if that explained everything it needed to. 

Myfanwy took a sip. It was actually really good, and it brought with it a whisper of memory... Italian syrups and soda by a carousel...? Was it a fun fair? Or a shopping center? The memory slipped away before she could grasp it, but it was something. Just a bit of music and laughter, and a taste on her tongue... and a feeling of warmth and love... but it was something.

"This is actually quite lovely," is what she said.

"Good," Robert said, matter of fact, "you can have that, and I'll drink this god awful tea."

"Oh, no! You don't have to do that! No one should have to suffer through that abomination!"

"Hey," Robert said, smiling now, "What good is having four bodies if I can't distract myself away from one questionable beverage? I'll just send Alex or Teddy for some very strong coffee to drown this monstrosity out, and I'll still be hydrated."

"Handy trick, that," Myfanwy said, smiling back, "Gestalt, my hero. Slayer of terrible beverages."

Robert laughed.

"You are in a much better mood now; enjoying driving?"

"Yeah," Myfanwy said, glancing away from the road and back over at him for a moment. "I think this version of me likes being in control."

"Oh, old you liked being in control, too," Robert said, looking out the passenger window. "Don't let the sweater sets and office work fool you. She could get tetchy if she felt like people were running over top of her, or over the people she cared about. You might be different in a lot of ways, but you're similar in more ways than you think."

Myfanwy was looking back at the road. It had gotten quiet again. 

"It's kind of funny, isn't it? It's like... You're one person in four bodies, and I'm two people in one body?" Myfanwy said, trying to break the silence.

"Yeah," Robert croaked. Myfanwy was beginning to wonder if the sunglasses weren't entirely being worn to block out the sun. "We are quite the pair, aren't we?"

"That we are." 

A change of subject was in order, but to what? Long hours in a car together could be a boon or a curse, depending on how they went.

"You said you drink this in America, because they think it's Fancy and Pretentious. That sounds like there is a story there."

Robert snorted.

"Oh, you don't know about Americans?"

"I mean, I know about Americans. But... I don't think I know whatever it is about them you are getting at."

Robert turned fully toward her in his seat, like this was a perfectly safe topic of discussion. Well done, Myfanwy.

"First thing you must know about Americans, specifically about American women: for some reason, they go absolutely insane for any kind of "standard" UK or UK-adjacent accent: English, Irish, Scottish... hell, their ears are so bad, if they can even mistake it for coming from around here, they will go nuts for it, so Australian, New Zealand... their ears are terrible at picking up where the accent comes from as a general rule, but if they pick one up, 90% of your job is already done for you."

"You're joking," Myfanwy said, incredulous.

"No, I swear," Robert said, earnestly. "In fact, this body gets an extra clothing allowance specifically because it is such good bait for the so-called upper-class American women. All this European designer fashion is just because of how insanely easy it is for me to get the wives, daughters and girlfriends of visiting dignitaries to spill state secrets over nothing. Drinks, a bit of dancing, an elevator ride. I once found out the American President's entire security layout just by telling his daughter she designed lovely shoes."

"No."

"Yes," Robert said, conspiratorially. "And it gets worse. It's not just me. It's anyone with the accent. You know Finnegan?"

"No," Myfanwy said, pondering, "Wait, you don't mean that pawn in the mail room? The one with the chipmunk teeth?" As she said this, she made the chipmunk face with her teeth and lips.

"Yes," Robert said, laughing. He almost looked like Alex in that moment, "He has that glorious Irish accent, right? The straight from the backwaters of county Cork accent? Well, he met this American tourist in a pub, she just overhears him putting in his regular order, and she practically jumps his bones on the spot. On the spot! Alex was there to witness the whole thing. She and Finnegan went home together that night- they're getting married next month!"

"No!"

"I'm telling you. Americans. I think it's because on their telly, all the magical creatures and rich people have some sort of British accent, so they hear one and their brains just sort of short circuit."

The two of them were laughing hard now, real, true laughter. It was nice. It made it hard to keep her eyes on the road. Myfanwy kept wanting to glance over at Robert. She liked his laugh. It was so rare to hear from this body. She bit her lip as she smiled. She wanted to reach over and touch his hair. So she did; it was baby-fine and as soft as it looked. Robert sighed and closed his eyes as Myfanwy ran her fingers through the silky strands of hair. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand away quickly and muttered an apology. Robert caught her hand before she could pull it all the way back. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Don't stop, please," he said, gently. "I mean, if you don't mind. Eliza has a terrible headache, and it feels so nice."

"Eliza can feel it?" Myfanwy asked. "I thought each of you bodies were separate? Like a hand? Or Foot?"

"With you, it's always been different," Robert said. "I don't know if it's your power and mine, a happy cross-reaction. That happen sometimes, you know. I feel you with all of me. Always have. Anyway, yes, Ms. Transdermal Electric Hands, if you don't mind... that felt fucking amazing."

"Okay, then." Myfanwy made sure to keep one hand and both eyes on the road, but put her right hand back in Roberts hair. He practically purred. She chuckled. "I swear, you're like a cat."

"hmmm," Robert hummed, "Whatever you say, Sparky."

Maybe they would be okay, after all. It wouldn't ever be like it was before, but that didn't mean they couldn't have something. But for now, it was time to go catch a dragon.


End file.
